


i got all my stars aligned

by blueblueelectricblue



Series: a star spinning in orbit, lighting up the sky [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bed-Wetting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 20:28:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18105887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueblueelectricblue/pseuds/blueblueelectricblue
Summary: Steve keeps coming back from missions injured and unhappy. Bucky just wants to help. Even super-soldiers need someone to care for them sometimes, even when they're stubborn as hell and don't want to admit it. Good thing Bucky has just the right idea on how to get Steve to let him do that.(It's ageplay. That's his idea.)





	i got all my stars aligned

Bucky Barnes is not an Avenger, and he doesn't mind one bit. It isn't like they forgot to ask. He just said no, is all. Bucky’s had enough fighting, and if he never has to pick up a gun again, it’ll be far too soon.

(Not that he doesn’t keep one or two in the house anyway. And better not to mention anything about the several military-grade knives stashed all over the place. Or the grenade – uh, what grenade?)

And he supposes if the world ever gets around to the apocalypse that guy who passes out handwritten tracts in Lafayette Square keeps yelling about, he probably would help. The world is kind of weird and tends to astonish him on a daily basis, but it's home, so Bucky does kind of have a stake in keeping it in existence. So it doesn't really faze him too much to be left alone while the Avengers go out and do their avenging thing. Bucky has plenty of catching up to do.

Well, okay, it kind of does a little, but only because it means he has to sleep alone until Steve comes back, and Bucky counts on having that extra body heat next to him at night. He never really seems to be able to get completely warm.

At least Steve’s big enough to hold his own now, thank god. Bucky can admit, if only to himself, that he does worry – but that’s a broken-in feeling, one of the few things that is always familiar despite the individual situation. His memory is still coming back in bits and pieces, but he must have had to stitch up or bandage Steve enough times when they were kids before the war that it’s indelibly etched into Bucky’s consciousness. The only difference aside from Steve’s physical size is that the apartment isn’t a ramshackle bedsit in Red Hook. Bucky’s come to like the apartment in Dupont Circle, now that Steve’s gotten all the giant shield-shaped holes in the walls fixed.

Steve almost always comes back from missions with some minor-to-moderate injuries, only now he won’t let Bucky do anything about them. (“Bucky, the doctor said all my bleeding is internal. That’s where the blood is supposed to be!” "Stop quoting _Brooklyn 99_ at me, internal bleeding is serious!") He does his stoic manly thing and nutcracker-marches himself to the bathroom where he does a lot of muffled grunting for awhile, then comes back out with band-aids everywhere, usually some gauze held in place here and there, a couple of those big sterile medical pads taped over huge swathes of his impressive torso.

This mission, which as Bucky has determined from between Steve’s slightly mashed lips, involved some giant lizards on an island off Costa Rica and scientists with the moral backbone of bloomed gelatin, has evidently been a doozy. Steve’s walking even more stiffly than usual, and it’s a struggle for him to get the Under Armour shirt he wears under his uniform even partway off. Bucky finally takes pity on him and manages to finish the job, only to find that Steve’s entire ribcage is one huge bruise.

“Jesus, Steve, what’d you do, try to ride a velociraptor and get thrown off?” he wants to know, and kneels down to untie Steve’s shoelaces without having been asked.

“You don’t have to do this,” Steve tells him, not bothering to hide the complaint in his voice, raspy from shouting directions for the past several days. “I can take care of myself.”

“And how many times have I heard that one?”

“Not enough, apparently.”

“You can barely lift your arms above your chest, Steve. How’d you even get out of your uniform, anyway?”

“I’m fine,” Steve insists, dodging the question.

Bucky stares up at him for a moment, taking in Steve’s already-healing but obviously broken nose, and just shakes his head. “Sorry, pal, you’re stuck with me.”

“You are the _worst_ boyfriend, you know that?”

“Shut up and let me get you undressed so I can order us a few pizzas. I’m starving.”

“ _You’re_ starving? All I’ve eaten in the past six hours is a protein bar!”

Bucky uses his left hand to make the blah-blah gesture, because Steve responds better to shiny things when he’s hangry. “How am I the worst boyfriend ever if I’m getting you undressed and it isn’t even so you’ll blow me?”

Steve scowls; he knows Bucky’s got him there. “Fine. But hurry up, I’m tired.”

“You’re hungry, you’re tired, what’s next, you need your blankie?” he teases.

“Shut the fuck up, Bucky.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

For all Steve’s moaning and bitching, he does submit to Bucky getting him into a pair of flannel pajama pants and an old t-shirt, the softest things Bucky can find in his dresser. But he isn’t happy about it and makes that very, very clear. Luckily the pizza guy is ridiculously quick – probably because they’re notoriously extravagant tippers — and soon they’re on the sofa shoving slices into their faces like there’s no tomorrow while the TV plays some Justice League episodes Bucky had been saving for them both to watch.

“See?” Bucky says smugly once they’ve come up for some air. “I told you dinner would be here soon, and it was.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you’re the next television psychic. How much are you gonna charge per minute?”

“You’re so grouchy. I think you really _do_ need a nap.”

Steve tries to throw a cushion at him but drops it almost immediately, his face screwing up into a grimace. “Fuck.”

Bucky sets down his pizza box and wipes his hands on the paper towel roll without bothering to unroll it first. “Hey, seriously, _are_ you okay?” he asks Steve, no longer teasing.

“No, I’m not,” Steve says when he can breathe normally again. “This really, really hurts.”

Well, that definitely isn’t a good sign, Mr. Something-to-Prove actually admitting to a negative feeling. “Do you want me to call someone? Take you to the ER?”

Steve shakes his head. “No, I want to stay here. I’ll be okay, Bruce checked me out before he let me off the Quinjet. I just need to sleep.”

“Come on, then. I’ll put the rest of the pizza in the fridge and then we’re going to bed.” Bucky gathers up the last, uneaten pizza, and puts it away.

When he returns to the living room, Steve hasn’t quite completed the sitting-to-standing process yet, so Bucky acts as leverage. It’s a testament to how much pain Steve really is in that he even allows Bucky to more or less take over getting him into the bedroom and then in bed.

“Aw, Buck, you don’t have to stay with me. It’s still early,” Steve tells him, sinking down into the pillows with obvious relief.

Bucky’s already under the covers. “Too bad. One of us has to make sure you make it through the night. Just like old times.” But he shoots a grin to the right side of the bed.

Steve laughs a little. “Yeah, actually, just minus the chicken soup you’d force-feed me.”

“Oh, you loved it. I made a big fuss over you and you got all of my attention, even more than usual.” Bucky reaches over and tweaks the lock of hair that’s always falling into Steve’s face. He hasn’t turned out the light yet, so he can see the blush rising in Steve’s cheeks.

“Oh, just give me some peace and quiet already. I’ve got a debriefing tomorrow,” Steve says, back to sounding gruff again.

Oh no he doesn’t, not if Bucky has anything to say about that, but he doesn’t say anything for now. Bucky turns out the light and drifts off to sleep just after Steve does. It’s always easier with him here.

It’s nowhere near dawn yet when he feels a sudden, unpleasant cold wetness – too reminiscent of the cryo chamber – and that’s more than enough to catapult him from REM sleep into full wakefulness. He discovers that it’s actually another one of those just-like-old-times things that usually happened when Steve was really ill (which was not infrequently); he’s pissed the bed, which Bucky confirms when he switches the light back on to try and wake Steve up.

Steve’s already awake, though, and he looks completely miserable. “Buck, I…I don’t know what happened,” he says in a shaky voice that makes Bucky want to fight something on his behalf. “I thought I could get up on my own, but I couldn’t move that fast. I’m so sorry.”

“Steve, why the hell didn’t you just wake me up?” he asks. He’s not mad, just baffled.

“I didn’t want to bother you.” Steve looks at the ceiling instead of at Bucky.

“Why would that bother me? That’s what I’m here for, Steve. Why else do you think I went to bed at 9 PM on a Friday, for my health?”

“You shouldn’t have to take care of me, I should be taking care of you,” Steve says softly, his voice even wobblier now.

Bucky snorts, unable to contain himself. “Oh, that’s bullshit, Rogers. You might be a lot bigger and a lot stronger than you were when we first met, but that doesn’t mean you don’t still need taking care of. Like I said earlier, you’re stuck with me.”

Steve’s quiet for a minute, his shoulders slumping when he pulls back the covers – his movements still stiff – and sees the extent of the damage. “Fuck.”

“Look on the bright side, you didn’t get me.” Bucky maneuvers his way to Steve’s side of the bed and holds his arms out for Steve to grab onto, but he doesn’t yet. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and I’ll just put on another set of sheets.”

“I can do it myself.”

“No, you can’t,” Bucky says firmly. Christ, but he’s stubborn. “You can still barely move, and you can’t just keep lying down in this all night.”

“But it’s _gross_. You don’t need to do this.”

Yeah, this _is_ pretty familiar now that Bucky thinks about it. “Steve,” he answers as patiently as he can, “it’s just pee. I’ve dealt with this before. _Many_ times. It washes off. Now, would you _please_ just let me help? I want to go back to bed sometime before the garbage trucks get here and ruin my beauty sleep.”

Steve’s so red in the face now that he looks like a very handsome tomato. “Okay,” he says in a meek tone that doesn’t suit him at all and takes Bucky’s hands for leverage.

Bucky doesn’t subject Steve to a full shower, because it’s obvious he can’t stay upright for very long, and sponge baths were what they used most of the time in their first apartment anyway, what with the shared bathroom being at the end of the hallway and them being on the other end of it. And he manages to change the sheets in record time, which is good, because by then he’s pretty tired, and Steve seems to be even more exhausted than before they’d gone to bed in the first place.

Once they’re both settled again, Bucky scoots closer to Steve and gently pulls him into a hug. He just looks so embarrassed and sad and Bucky can’t take it. “Hey. It’s no big deal, Steve. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

Steve makes a muffled noise that Bucky can’t decipher and, despite the pain, practically melts into Bucky’s arms.

“I mean it.”

“I know,” Steve whispers. “I’m sorry, Buck.”

“For what? Needing my help?” Bucky kisses Steve’s hair because it’s the only thing he can reach like this. “It’s not a crime.”

Steve shakes his head a little and he’s even quieter now, his voice almost imperceptible. “For _wanting_ your help.”

He can’t say he isn’t a little taken aback by the admission, but Bucky tries not to let on. God, what has _happened_ to Steve since he fell from the train? Who made him think he couldn’t want it? “You’re allowed to want my help _and_ need it, Steve. We’re a team. You help me, I help you, that’s how this works. And, come on, when - seventy years of batshit-crazy Nazi programming aside - have I ever done anything that I didn’t want to do?”

Steve lifts his head and Bucky’s heart just about implodes when he sees the faint tear tracks on Steve’s face. “I feel like – I’ve already taken so much of your time and energy in the past, and now you’ve been through so much. I should be doing more.”

“And you haven’t been through anything, huh?” Bucky threads his fingers through Steve’s hair. “First thing tomorrow we’re definitely calling your therapist, and second, stop being an idiot.  I love you, I have always loved you, I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere unless you want me gone.”

“No!” Steve jerks back, his eyes wide, and the forcefulness of it startles them both.

“Steve, calm down, okay? I’m here.”

“Don’t leave me, don’t ever leave me again, Bucky, it’s so awful without you,” He’s talking too fast now.

Yeah, Bucky’s definitely setting up a therapy appointment for him tomorrow. “I won’t leave you,” he says, hoping that he sounds reassuring.

“Promise?”

“I promise I won’t ever leave you again, Stevie,” Bucky tells him, pulling him even closer while still being mindful of Steve’s injuries.

Steve practically crawls into his lap. “Okay,” he says softly, burying his face into Bucky’s shoulder.

“It’s all right, you’re all right,” Bucky murmurs into Steve’s ear. “You’re home and you’re with me and you’re safe, my love. I’m never going to let you go and I’m always, always going to be here with you.”

Steve’s heartbeat at least slows down some after that, no longer thumping madly against Bucky’s chest, and he’s so quiet for so long that Bucky thinks maybe he fell asleep again until he speaks. “Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Bucky shifts a little, because this position is sort of awkward and his legs are going the teensiest bit numb. “Hey, bud, why don’t we try to go back to sleep for a little while?”

“Don’t wanna,” Steve says through a poorly concealed yawn.

“I think you need to,” he says gently. “Be a good boy for me, now.” Bucky has no idea where that came from, but Steve doesn’t immediately punch him in the face, which is a plus. It’s just – Steve isn’t a kid, Bucky knows that, but it feels right to say that to him at this moment.

“Mmkay.” Steve allows Bucky to peel him off and get him back on his own side of the bed, but as soon as Bucky turns out the light and lies down, Steve’s reaching out for his hand, which Bucky obliges. “Bucky?”

“Hm?”

“Am I good?”

“Of course you are, Stevie. You’re always good.”

Steve makes a contented little noise and then yawns again. Soon his breathing becomes regular and even, and Bucky gives himself permission to finally get back to sleep. When he wakes up, Steve is still holding his hand like it’s a lifeline.

\--

Three weeks later, after Steve comes home bruised and bloody from a fight with a bunch of MODOKs in Venice Beach and immediately flings himself at Bucky for a hug, almost knocking him off his feet.

“I missed you,” Steve says breathlessly, as though they hadn’t seen each other seven hours ago.

“I missed you too, Steve,” Bucky replies, and pushes a lock of hair out of Steve’s eyes, the one that always likes to fall into them. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I just – “ he stops himself for a brief moment, already turning pink. “You’re home and you’re safe and you’re here and all I could think about on the ride back was that I wanted you.”

Bucky gives him a squeeze, but a really weak one. Maybe those therapy sessions _are_ doing some good. “Do you want some help getting bandaged up and into some clean clothes?”

“Uh-huh. Can we have Chinese food?” It’s back again, that childlike tone Steve had slipped into a couple of weeks ago after the last mission. It’s actually sort of adorable.

“Sure we can. But let’s get you out of all this sweaty gear first, okay?”

This time, Steve is much more compliant; at one point, Bucky thinks he might even be enjoying it. Well, he’ll take this over having to deal with Stubborn Asshole Steve any day. The moment they’ve finished eating their wontons and lo mein and sweet and sour chicken, Steve slides across the couch and climbs straight into Bucky’s lap. His movements still aren’t exactly fluid, but they’re a lot less worrisome than the last time he came home injured. Bucky can’t help being a little surprised, as he doesn’t remember Steve doing this even when he was proper lap size, but he doesn’t mind Steve’s solid warmth on him like this. It’s like a weighted blanket, only cheaper.

They get through another episode of Justice League before Bucky decides to ask Steve the thing he’s been wanting to bring up but hasn’t felt it was the right time to do so until now, if only because Steve hasn’t really needed his help since the dinosaur park. Thank god he only has one palm, because it is sweaty as _fuck_ right now.

“Hey, Steve?”

Steve answers in a vague affirmative.

“Can we talk for a minute? It’s nothing bad, I just – had a question for you.”

“Sure. Buck. What is it?”

“So, uh, I’ve been thinking we could try something new.” Steve perks up. “Not in bed, but just in general.” Steve perks back down. “I was messing around on the internet and came across this thing, where some people have relationships where sometimes one person needs to feel cared for and safe more than usual, so they, like….regress. And the other person acts like a caregiver.”

That’s mostly true, the part about coming across that on the internet. Bucky had actually been searching for porn one evening while he was bored and horny, and Steve was doing some VA hospital charity thing, and autofill dicked him over once again. Bucky isn’t too thrilled about the idea of bringing it into the bedroom, but the rest of it sounds pretty nice.

Steve turns red again. “I’m not a baby, Bucky.”

“I know you’re not. I just thought, what if it was a good way to make you feel really secure when you come home after a tough fight, you know? It’s – putting yourself through all that physical stuff takes a lot out of you and it might be easier on us both, that’s all.”

“Maybe,” Steve says in that tone that means no. Mrs. Rogers had used that one a lot on them.

“You don’t have to decide now. Just think about it, okay?”

“All right.” He’s quiet for a moment, which makes Bucky wonder if he’s going to have to sleep in the spare room tonight, until he grins. “If I do say yes – and that’s a _big_ if – do I get some footie pajamas out of it?”

“Steve, if they make ‘em big enough, you can have footie pajamas with a whole buttflap.”

They both crack up.

\--

Bucky gets his answer not the next time Steve is dispatched, to de-escalate a situation in Madripoor, even though he comes home covered in about a metric ton of dust that’s probably full of asbestos, but the mission after that. Steve returns to their apartment relatively unscathed in a physical sense, but the expression on his face tells Bucky almost everything he needs to know about how it went.

Before he can react, Steve’s in Bucky’s arms, shoulders heaving with sobs as he chokes out the story of what happened. Bucky can really only understand about every other word, but it’s enough to piece the whole thing together, which is that there had been a bomb planted in Copenhagen’s harbor that AIM had somehow managed to make untraceable and detonated it at the worst possible moment, causing a tidal wave. The Avengers had saved as many civilians as they could, but dozens had still died or been severely injured.

“I know, I know,” he murmurs over and over, hugging Steve tightly and trying to rub his back in an attempt to get him to stop crying so hard before he gets sick. “I’m so sorry, Steve.”

Steve just hangs onto Bucky even more tightly, and he thinks about shuffling them over to the sofa, but that would be awkward. So he does the only other thing he’s able to come up with. It’s a good thing Bucky’s also a super-soldier, because it takes one to carry one. Steve doesn’t protest or try to wiggle out of Bucky’s grip – in fact, he melts into it during those few yards it takes to get to the sofa.

Bucky just sits down with Steve still in his arms, settling in so that they can have a proper cuddle, which is clearly very needed right now. And it’s about the only thing Bucky can do to help, really. Eventually, Steve’s sobs trail off into silent tears as he plays with the hem of Bucky’s t-shirt for lack of anything better to do with his hands.

When he finally starts talking again, his voice rough but small, Steve says in a rushed whisper, “I’m scared, Daddy.”

So, they’re doing this, he guesses. Steve hasn’t started blushing yet, which is almost more surprising than the fact that Steve’s apparently taking him up on the idea of playing this game. Whatever makes him happy, whatever makes him feel safe – Bucky’s going to do that.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bucky asks him, brushing away the remaining tears on Steve’s cheeks with his thumb.

“Uh-uh. Just want to be here with you.”

“You’ve got me, Stevie. I’m here.”

The next day, while Steve’s at the debrief, Bucky goes online and orders him not just a set of footie pajamas with the promised buttflap but that blankie too – the kind with the satin-edged border, super-soft and warm – and a teddy bear, big enough for Steve’s arms and fuzzy, with a red, white, and blue bow tied jauntily around its neck. And some coloring books and a huge set of crayons, because why drag all those gouaches into the living room if Bucky can avoid that? He orders another box of certain supplies, but those will wait until later, if Steve decides he wants them. He might, he might not. And if not, Bucky can just donate them to a nursing home or something.

Steve gasps when he opens the box at Bucky’s urging. “This is for me?” he asks in wonderment from his place sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, staring at the teddy bear in his hands.

“Of course it is. Who else would it be for?” Bucky grins.

Steve lets go of the stuffed animal to beam up at him, holding his arms out in the universal pick-me-up gesture, which Bucky is more than happy to oblige.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou,” he breathes into Bucky’s ear, exuberant in a way that Steve had never been as a real kid.

Bucky is completely and truly warm for the first time in decades.

**Author's Note:**

> There will definitely be more, featuring that mysterious box of "certain supplies!" ;)


End file.
